by P. J. Night
“Hi, Pumpkin!” Mrs. McDowell said with a smile. “How was school?”
“Great,” Ashley replied. She couldn’t wait to tell her mom all about the Harvest Days.
“Just wait until you see the kitchen,” Mrs. McDowell gushed. “Mrs. Medina here is a miracle worker! She just zipped through like a tornado, getting everything in order. I don’t know how she did it so fast.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Medina said modestly, but Ashley could see from the satisfied smile on her face that she agreed with every word Mrs. McDowell had said. Remembering the way Mrs. Medina had looked at the mailbox post yesterday, Ashley decided that there was no better time to ask her mother about the symbol she’d seen.
“Hey, Mom?” Ashley asked. “Did you see that thing on the post yesterday? Under the mailbox?”
Mrs. Medina’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Mrs. McDowell shook her head. “What was it? A bug?”
“No. It was some kind of symbol. Like a figure eight, but sideways.”
“Hmm.”
“Anyway, it’s gone now. That guy—Mr. Wagner?—painted over it.”
“Oh, you met Mr. Wagner? He stopped by this morning and offered to help us get the farm winterized. I don’t think I ever saw your dad look so relieved before!”
“Winterized—what does that mean?”
“Well, repairing the barn door, for example, and fixing the shingles on the roof—you know, the loose ones. Painting anything that’s due for a fresh coat of paint.”
“Like the fence, I guess,” Ashley said.
“Sure. Though I think I would’ve started with fixing the roof,” Mrs. McDowell said.
“Well, Wally knows what he’s doing,” Mrs. Medina spoke up loudly. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! This weekend is the Heaton Corners Harvest Days Festival, and you all absolutely have to come.”
“Sounds like fun,” replied Mrs. McDowell.
“It’s been a tradition here in Heaton Corners for as long as anyone can remember,” Mrs. Medina said. “You’ll just love it. There’s a quilting bee and a cake auction and a scarecrow-making contest for the children!”
“And rides?” Ashley spoke up. “I heard there were rides.”
“So you know all about it already. Why am I not surprised?” Mrs. McDowell laughed. “Ash always has her ear to the ground.”
“I don’t know all about it,” Ashley corrected her. “It’s just this boy at school mentioned it.”
“Which boy?” Mrs. Medina asked. Her voice sounded innocent, but the way her eyebrows arched told Ashley that she was very interested in the answer.
“Actually, Joey, your nephew,” Ashley replied.
“Joey is a very nice young man,” Mrs. Medina said, giving Mrs. McDowell a meaningful look. “His mother was my sister, but she died when Joey was just a little boy.”
“I’m so sorry to hear—” Mrs. McDowell began, but Mrs. Medina just kept talking.
“It was unfortunate when John Carmichael remarried,” she said. “He didn’t choose wisely, and why he had to look for someone outside of Heaton Corners, I’ll never understand. Every eligible woman in town would have loved to become the next Mrs. Carmichael.”
Ashley turned to her mother. Mrs. McDowell raised her eyebrows, but Mrs. Medina didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t care what John says, Felicia Carmichael just doesn’t fit in here. She never learned to just leave well enough alone.”
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her yet,” Mrs. McDowell jumped in.
“You probably won’t. John and his sons handle most of the farm’s business. The Carmichaels have lived in Heaton Corners as long as any family. Their homestead is over on Jasper Road. They have the apple orchard? You’ll want to go there for your apples, of course, especially pie apples. And speaking of baking, Julia, I’m hoping we can put you down for a cake?”
“Sorry?” Mrs. McDowell asked, jarred by the quick change of subject.
“Oh, for the cake auction at the festival, of course,” Mrs. Medina said. “All the money we raise goes to the Heaton High Scholarship Foundation. It’s for such a good cause, and seeing as your kitchen is all set up—”
“I wish I could help, but I’m not much of a—”
“Thank you, Julia!” Mrs. Medina said. “Just bring your cake to the high school by ten a.m. this Saturday. Oh, and a word to the wise—we’ve found that the triple-layer cakes tend to be the most impressive ones.”
“Triple layer. Gotcha,” Ashley’s mom said with a thin smile.
“I’d better head off,” Mrs. Medina said smoothly. “Mary Beth’s flute lesson will be over in a few minutes.”
“Thanks again for all your help,” Mrs. McDowell said.
“Bye, Mrs. Medina,” Ashley chimed in. “Say hi to Mary Beth for me.”
“Of course, dear!”
Ashley and her mom watched as Mrs. Medina walked down the path. She stopped for a moment near Mr. Wagner and said something to him. Then he looked back at the house, tipped his hat at Ashley and Mrs. McDowell, and got into Mrs. Medina’s car.
As they drove away, Ashley turned to her mother and raised her eyebrows. There was so much she wanted to say about Mrs. Medina’s visit, but the first thing was, “A cake? A triple-layer cake? Mom, what were you thinking? You can’t even make a birthday cake!”
“Yes, I can!” Mrs. McDowell protested.
Ashley started to laugh. “Mom. A pile of doughnuts with a candle stuck in them is not a birthday cake.”
“Oh, excuse me,” Mrs. McDowell said, but Ashley could tell from her smile that she was kidding. Ashley giggled.
“Ash, what am I going to do?” her mom said with a groan. “I’m not even sure we own a cake pan!”
“Don’t worry, I have it all figured out,” Ashley replied. “We’ll just buy a cake. Like, a really nice one from a bakery or something.”
“Yeah, right. That would be a scandal that Heaton Corners would be buzzing about for years,” Mrs. McDowell replied. “I don’t get the impression they really go for store-bought baked goods around here.”
“Okay . . . ” Ashley said. “Well, what if we bought the cake but decorated it ourselves? We could make it look really amazing . . . like, with a spooky theme or something.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Mrs. McDowell said. “Actually, it’s a great idea. I think we could handle that!”
“Is the cable hooked up yet?” Ashley asked hopefully. “We could look up some pictures on the Internet.”
“Not yet, honey,” Mrs. McDowell said. “We’ve been having a little trouble with that. It seems that Heaton Corners isn’t exactly an Internet hot spot. But your dad’s on the case, and hopefully the Internet should be set up tomorrow. So anyway—tell me about Joey.”
“Not much to tell,” Ashley said with a shrug. “He’s just a boy. He told me about the Harvest Days Festival and asked if I was going.”
“I was sorry to hear about his mother,” said Mrs. McDowell. “It’s hard losing a parent so young. I hope his stepmother is a nice person.”
“Me too,” said Ashley. “I wonder what Mrs. Medina’s problem with her is.”
“Who knows?” replied Mrs. McDowell. “Sometimes people in small towns can be too into each others’ business. It’s best to just ignore gossip. So . . . did he ask you to go with him . . . to the festival?”
“Oh no,” Ashley said right away. “It was nothing like that. He was just telling me about it. Since everyone goes, I guess.”
“Are you sure?” Mrs. McDowell asked.
“Definitely.”
Mrs. McDowell looked at Ashley for a long moment. “Okay.”
“So, anyway,” Ashley said, eager to change the subject. “I guess I’ll start my homework.”
“Okay,” Mrs. McDowell repeated.
As Ashley slung her backpack over her shoulder, she couldn’t help wondering if her mom was on to something. Maybe Joey was going to ask me to go with him, she thought. Maybe he wou
ld’ve if his brother hadn’t driven up at that moment!
Then Ashley smiled to herself. There was no harm in wishing that Joey liked her too.
After all, sometimes wishes came true.
On Saturday morning—the day of the festival—the lights were on at the McDowells’ house before the sun was up. Ashley and her mom had spent the last three hours hunched over the chocolate sheet cake Mrs. McDowell had bought the day before.
“It looks good, Mom,” Ashley said, stifling a yawn.
Mrs. McDowell frowned and adjusted a gummy worm. “You think so?” she asked anxiously. “I wish I’d bought more of those little sugar pumpkins. Too late now—I don’t have time to drive all the way to the big supermarket in Walthrop to get more.”
“No, it really looks amazing,” Ashley assured her mother. They had decorated the cake to look like a spooky cemetery, with crooked cookie tombstones and grass made from shredded coconut that they had dyed with green food coloring. Ashley’s favorite part was adding the Halloween candy her mom had bought. Marshmallow ghosts peeked around the cookie tombstones, and licorice bats flew above them, suspended by nearly invisible fishing wire that hung down from a cardboard overhang that Ashley had painted to look like a haunted forest.
“I mean, who wouldn’t love this cake?” Ashley asked.
“I love this cake!” Mr. McDowell said as he poured himself another cup of coffee. “Really, ladies, you outdid yourselves.”
Mrs. McDowell stood back to admire their efforts. “It does look pretty good, doesn’t it?”
“The best,” Ashley said firmly.
“Yikes—quarter of ten! We’ve got to leave so we can drop off the cake on time,” Mrs. McDowell exclaimed as she glanced at the clock. “Everybody ready to go?”
“Hang on,” Ashley said. “I have to change.”
She rushed up the stairs to her bedroom and pulled on her favorite sweater, an orange one that was just a few shades lighter than her auburn hair. Then Ashley dashed into the bathroom to brush her hair and apply a touch of apple-flavored lip gloss. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and smiled wide to make sure she didn’t have any lip gloss on her teeth.
When the McDowells arrived at the high school a few minutes later, Ashley couldn’t believe how many people were there. “Look at this!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know this many people even lived in Heaton Corners!”
“Neither did I,” said Mr. McDowell. “Parking is going to be impossible. Ash, how about you get out here so you can bring in the cake? We’ll meet you at the flagpole after I find a parking spot.”
“Okay, Dad,” Ashley said. “See you in a few minutes.”
As she walked up the steps of the high school, Ashley noticed that everyone she passed by stopped and stared at the cake. I knew it! she thought. Our cake really did turn out amazing! She couldn’t wait to find out how much it would bring in for the scholarship fund.
Inside the cafeteria, Ashley carried the cake over to a long table that was crowded with towering cakes—vanilla, chocolate, coconut, jelly roll, apple, and even a pineapple upside-down cake. But none of the other cakes, Ashley noticed proudly, had such festive and original decorations.
The two women standing behind the table froze when Ashley approached them.
“What is that?” one of them asked.
“It’s for the auction,” Ashley replied. “Mrs. Medina asked my mom to make it?”
“Of course,” the other woman said quickly as she reached for the cake. “Thank you, dear. You run along and enjoy the fair.”
Ashley turned away to leave, but she couldn’t help overhearing what the women said next.
“Cynthia, we shouldn’t—”
“They’re the new family. Obviously they don’t know—”
But when Ashley turned around again to see what the problem was, the women smiled brightly at her—as if nothing was wrong.
Well, so what if we didn’t make some lame old-fashioned three-layer cake? Ashley thought defensively as she walked outside into the bright October sunshine. Even more people had arrived on the school grounds while she was inside. By the time Ashley made it through the crowd to the flagpole, her parents were waiting for her.
“Everything go okay?” Mrs. McDowell asked. “With dropping off the cake?”
“Oh, definitely,” Ashley said. She knew that she could never tell her mother about the way those two women had behaved. Her mom was so proud of that cake. She’d be completely humiliated if she knew that those women had acted as if Ashley’d brought them a platter of trash.
“Ashley! Hey!” Mary Beth called over as she ran up to the flagpole. Stephanie and Danielle were right behind her.
“Hey, you guys!” Ashley said before she introduced her parents to the other girls. Then she turned to her mom. “Is it okay if I hang out with them?”
“Of course,” Mrs. McDowell said. “The cake auction is at three o’clock. I’ll see you there, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it!” Ashley replied. “Bye!”
Then the girls hurried around to the football field, where all the rides and games were set up. They built a hilarious scarecrow with a Mohawk made out of hay, and then they rode the Tilt-A-Whirl four times in a row. But no matter what they did, Ashley kept an eye out for Joey in the crowd, even when she and her friends were riding the Ferris wheel that towered over the rest of the fair. Just as she was starting to think that maybe Joey had skipped the festival . . .
There he was.
Standing right in front of the Ferris wheel!
Joey noticed her at the same time and raised a hand in greeting. By the time the ride ended and Ashley climbed out of the metal bucket, she was sure of it: Joey was waiting for her.
“Hey,” Joey said.
“Hey, Joey,” Ashley replied. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to make it.”
The minute the words were out of her mouth, Ashley wished she could take them back. But Joey didn’t seem to realize that she’d just admitted she’d been looking—waiting—for him.
“Oh yeah. I was stuck at the apple judging,” Joey said, shaking his head. “Every year my dad wins first prize, and every year he makes Pete and me stand around with him and the apples until the judges award the ribbons. I guess it really drives home the ‘family farm’ thing.”
“Congratulations, huh? First prize apples, that’s pretty cool. I’ll have to try one,” Ashley said.
“Oh, definitely,” Joey replied, giving Ashley that slow, warm smile that made her feel all fluttery and nervous inside. At that same moment, Mary Beth, Stephanie, and Danielle walked up. “So, where are you all headed now?” Joey asked the group.
“Actually, I was wondering where the haunted house is,” Ashley said, turning to her friends. “I hope it’s really scary!”
“Haunted what?” asked Stephanie.
“You know,” Ashley said. “The haunted house.”
But the others kids just stared at her blankly.
“Why would there be one of those at the harvest festival?” Danielle asked.
“Well, because it’s October,” Ashley said. “You know, Halloween and all that. I’m kind of surprised that there aren’t more jack-o’-lanterns and stuff at the festival. Maybe all the farmers are saving the pumpkins for Halloween night?”
“We don’t really do Halloween in Heaton Corners,” Mary Beth explained.
Ashley couldn’t help it; her jaw dropped open. She felt like she was talking to visitors from another planet. “You don’t do Halloween? It’s my favorite holiday!”
Mary Beth shrugged. “I know it’s a big deal in other towns, but not here. I guess October in Heaton Corners is more about the harvest than frights and stuff like that.”
“Oh, man,” Ashley said, totally bummed out. “Halloween is the best. I love getting dressed up—I always go for the superscariest costume I can think of. And trick-or-treating is so much fun. The candy, the chill in the air, the decorations . . . ” She shivered with excitement as she
got lost in her thoughts. “It’s absolutely my favorite night of the year.”
“I guess I’ve never really given Halloween much thought before,” said Danielle, “but that sounds like a lot of fun. I wish we could go trick-or-treating.”
“This year we so will,” Ashley said. “Because I’m not going to miss trick-or-treating for anything. We’ll all go together!”
“No, you won’t.”
At the sound of Joey’s voice, Ashley turned to look at him. His handsome face was contorted by such a scowl that it was like a dark cloud had passed over the sun, obliterating all its warmth and light.
“Huh?” Ashley asked, sure that she had misheard him.
“No, you won’t,” Joey repeated. “You won’t go trick-or-treating. Nobody goes trick-or-treating in Heaton Corners, and nobody ever will.”
Mary Beth scowled at her cousin. “I don’t exactly know what your problem is, Joey,” she said calmly, “but we’ll do whatever we want. And nobody—especially not you—can stop us.”
Then she locked arms with Ashley and spun around. The two girls started to walk away. Danielle and Stephanie followed, leaving Joey standing alone in the middle of the Harvest Days Festival.
If Ashley had turned around to look at him, she would’ve seen that there was something more than anger in his face: complete and total fear.
CHAPTER 4
“What was that?” Ashley asked, once the girls were a safe distance away from Joey.
“Ugh, I don’t know,” Mary Beth replied, shaking her head.
“He just got so intense,” Ashley remarked.
Mary Beth continued to shake her head. “He can be so weird sometimes. Ever since his father remarried.”
Ashley didn’t know what to say. “Bummer. He seemed so nice.”
Mary Beth gave her such a sharp look that it made Ashley’s cheeks turn pink. “Do you like him?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Ashley said, breaking out into a grin despite herself. “Maybe. Just a little. It’s no big deal.”